"pAvron 



U/>e Comet 

and 

OtKer Verses 




By Irving Sidney Dix 



COPYRIGHT 1910 PRICE 15 CENTS 



THE COMET 

and 

OTHER VERSES 

By IRVING SIDNEY DIX 




DEDICATION 

To the Memory of my school mate 
William Morgan who was drowned in 
the Delaware. 



Press of Munn' s Review '^*^^?*^ Carbondale, Penna 



\^\\ 









With the Reader 

It should be stated that some of these 
verses, in a shghtly different form, have 
previously appeared in various periodicals 
in Binghamton, Scranton, Philadelphia 
and New York City, but most of them ap- 
pear here for the first time, and also, per- 
haps it should be mentioned that some of 
these stanzas were written during my 
school days. However, the majority of the 
following verses have been composed since 
the former booklet was published. 

And if in any way you have been helped 
to see, that even here in this rugged coun- 
try ''the poetry of earth 5s never ceasing," 
however rude my interpretation of it may 
seem to the critical, the labor and expense 
of publishing this little volume will be fully 
justified. 

Irving Dix. 



(§.CI.A265170 



f 



Contents 



Page 

The Comet 7 

Washington 8 

The Storm 10 

Jim, the Newsboy 11 

March Wind Blow 12 

The Rime of the Raftmen 13 

A Child's Elegy 16 

Dreaming of the Delaware 17 

Norma 18 

Plant a Tree 21 

Maid of Shehawken 21 

To the Delaware 22 

Starlight Lake 24 

An Inquiry 25 

Twin Lake 26 

The Man Who Swears 27 

The Glen 28 

Hope 30 

Lines to Liars 31 

Fooling 32 



ADVERTISEMENT 

The Comet — 15 cents 
The Silent Life — 15 cents 
Both Booklets — 25 cents 

THESE booklets are not published as a 
financial venture — they are likely to 
be a failure in this direction, for the 
cost of printing alone equals the sell- 
ing price, on account of the small number 
issued, only 250 copies, and fifty copies are 
not for sale. Five hundred copies of the 
Silent Life were printed in 1907, and I have 
left only 160 copies for sale. I desire to 
dispose of these and the small edition of 
''The Comet" during the present year, so 
that another booklet (containing, I hope 
still better material) may be issued during 
the year of 1911. 

To those who may wish to send copies 
of either of these booklets to their friends, 
thereby assisting in the disposal of this 
edition, the following offer will be of in- 
terest. 

Ten copies, assorted to suit — $1.00. 
Address : 

Irving Dix, 

Shehawken, 
Wayne Co., 
Penna. 



r oreword 

A few years ago, while recovering from 
an illness, I conceived the idea of writing 
some reminiscent lines on country life in the 
Wayne Highlands. And during the inter- 
val of a few days I produced some five hun- 
dred couplets, — a few good, some bad and 
many indifferent— and such speed would 
of necessity invite the indifferent. A por- 
tion of these lines were published in 1907. 
However, I had hoped to revise and re- 
publish them, with additions of the same 
type, at a later date as a souvenir volume 
of verses for those who spend the summer 
months among these hills— as well as for 
the home-fast inhabitants. But in sub- 
stituting the following collection of verses 
I hope my judgment will be confirmed by 
those who chance to read these simple 
stanzas of one, who — 

"Loves not man the less, but Nature more 
From those our interviews, in which I steal 

From all I may be or have been before, 
To mingle with the Universe and feel 
What I can ne'er express, yet cannot all conceal. " 

I. S. D. 



Copyright 1910 

BY 

Irving Dix 



Verses in this booklet may be 
copied in the pubHc prints by giving 
credit as above. 



The Comet 



IWIFT circuit-rider of the endless skies, 

Thou wanderer of the outer, unknown air, 

I Amid those dim, uncharted regions there, 

Imagination droops— in deep surprise 
Man doth behold thee, and the fearful speed 
At which thou spurrest on thy flaming steed. 

Born of the dark and ever-deepening Past, 

Who nurs'd thee there in yonder viewless space 
Afar from earth— thy all-beholding face 
Hath gazed unspeakable, with clear eye cast 
Worldward on each magnificent return 
As if of human progress thou wouldst learn. 
And thou hast seen each triumph and each plan 
By which the human race since human time 
Hath learned at last Earth's secrets all-subHme 
While rising from the elements to man — 
Hast seen it triumph over sea and air 
And universal knowledge hope to share. 
Thy circuit measures well the age of man, 
The epoch of a life— and few there be 
Who seeing thee, thy face again may see, 
For human life is but a little span. 
With varying cycles of a different day. 
And in diffusion wears itself awav. 
Child of the Sun, when first the human eye 
Beheld thee coursing in the night afar 
Like an illumined spectre of a star — 
Beheld thy awful form against the sky 
Strong men fell earthward with a coward-cry 
On their pale lips, as if afraid to die — 
And that brute King— Nero, the cruel King, 
When looking on thy fiery face unknown. 
Sate trembling on his little human throne. 



And thought that thou didst evil tidings bring— 
That thou wert writing on the distant skies 
A doom from which no human king could rise. 

Thy age is all unknown— man can but guess 
The time when first the Sun thy circle set- 
He can but guess thy secret birth— and yet 

Observing thee his knowledge is not less; 

He knows each cycle, each return to be 

A moment in that vast eternity. 

Recording-comet of th' immortal space, 
What history thy eye hath look'd upon 
Since first thy airy, circling course was run! 

What fallen pride! What scatterings of race! 

Jerusalem and Nineveh and Rome 

Didst thou behold from thy almighty dome— 

Didst thou behold— their birth, their rise, their fall — 
Low humbled by the under hordes at last. 
With glory and fair triumphs in the past, 

And footprints of destruction over all. 

While thou, fleet comet, with a light divine 

Continueth upon the earth to shine. 

Speed on! swift comet— turn, wanderer, turn! 
And with thy flaming, god-like pen of light 
On heaven's scroll with burning letters write: 
Live but to love, O earth!— to love and learn, 
For while a comet's mighty cycles fail. 
Love, — love and truth forever shall prevail. 

Washington 

nT is forever so— when there is need 
Of some clear, clarion voice to forward lead 
God raiseth up a man from his own seed; 
Not from the soft, luxurious lap of earth, 
But from a nobler soil, so that from birth 



The frame is moulded with a chosen food 
That has one only end— to make it good, 
Full generous, far-sighted, firm and keen, 
With strength to rise above the gross and mean— 
The sordid selfishness that Hke a curse 
Drives from the heart the virtues it v^ould nurse- 
That love of country, freedom's holy cause, 
Justice, mercy, that eye for equal laws. 
Faith in the future and our fellow-men, 
Faith in the sword when shielded by the pen — 
And so it was with us- -when there was need 
Of one commanding voice to forward lead, 
God rais'd up here a man from His own seed; 
And so came forth the gentle Washington, 
Fair child of Fate, the nation's noblest son, 
Whom Virtue fostered and whom Virtue won. 

Some few there be whose feet knew rougher 

ground, 
But few indeed a loftier summit found — 
Nurtured in tender soil, he held a path 
Where others faltered, heeding not the wrath 
Of any king or potentate or power— 
His was the hero-heart— he saw the hour,— 
He knew the mighty odds, yet would not cower. 
And when the tyrant's heel touch 'd on our shore 
And thrust itself unbidden to our door, — 
But Washington alone with eagle-eye 
Withstood the foe and taught him how to die; 
Repulsed, disheartened, driven to despair, 
He lifted up his voice in humble prayer. 
For in that awful night at Valley Forge 
He drank the bitter cup— he knew Fate's scourge, 
He felt her lash, —this tender-hearted George. 

Father of Liberty-thou Child of Light, 
Columbia's first-born, who in thy might 
Restored to Freedom her enfeebled sight— 
If spirits of the nobler dead can hear, 
This day- -thy natal day— press close thine ear 
And learn what we thy nation need to fear, 



And if the immortal dead can truly speak, 
Show us, O Child of Light, where we are weak, 
Grant us thy counsel (for thou art with God) 
And bear us wisdom where thy footsteps trod. 
And if thou seest aught of envious strife 
From virtue sapping all her sweeter life, 
Teach us, O Child of Light, a purer love, 
For thou hast learn 'd of God— thou art above 
Thy weak and erring mortals here below 
Who see the light, yet forward fear to go — 
Guide us, if sprits of the dead may guide. 
So that in peace we ever may abide, 
So that from land to sea, from shore to shore. 
We shall be brothers now and evermore 

J0^ 



The Storm 



|LL day long the sky was cloudless. 
Life was waiting for a breath. 
And the heat was more oppressive 
Than the fear of sudden death; 
All day long the sun was shining 

In a hot and windless sky. 
And the trees were weak for water- 
Earth and air were dead and dry. 

But e'er Night her wings had folded 

Came a welcome western breeze, 
Moving idly through the forest. 

Prophesying to the trees, 
Till above that dim horizon 

Giant clouds like warring foes 
Marshalled far in battle numbers 

As the wild winds wilder rose. 

Hark ! hear the double rumble 
As the thunder shakes the air. 
Like a thousand hoofs advancing 

10 



In yon cloudy corral there! — 
Look!— how red the lightning flashes! 

How the echoes roll and roll — 
Dirges from some demon goddess — 

How the bells of heaven toll! 
Like a lance, a flash of Hghtning 

Cuts the foremost cloud in twain 
And the thunder's mighty echo 

Rolls athwart the drenching rain 
Till the landscape fades like shadows 

In the driving sheets of spray, 
And the wind wails through the forest, 

And the great trees rock and sway. 
Soon the air is strangely solemn 

And the winds no longer blow 
To the thunder's distant drumming 

In the valley far below; 
And along the low horizon 

All the clouds are growing dim, 
While upon the western hilltops 

Rolls again the sun's red rim. 
And away across the valley 

In the heavens arching high, 
Like a bed for fairy flowers 

Swings the rainbow in the sky- 
Swings until the shadows gather 

And the sun sinks out of sight, 
Seemingly to whisper softly 

To the world a fond good night. 

Jim, the Newsboy 

nIM, the newsboy, died today, 
So the evening papers say— 
And the funeral will be 
In the afternoon at three— 
*Tlease" (the papers say) *'a flow'r 



Bring for Jim before the hour — 
Any color that you deem 
A true token of esteem, 
If you would remember him — 
The newsboy, Jim. 

At his corner near Broad street, 
Jim, tho' lame, would smiling greet 
With a merry, winning call 
All his patrons, great and small, 
And his fellow nev/sboys say 
That they miss him much today. 
And they have a tablet bought, 
And upon it this is wrought: 
''In memory of Newsbov Jim, 
We all liked him.'' 

Little toilers on Life's road 
To yon visionless abode, 
There was much of good in Jim' 
Or the boys had disliked him; 
There was something in his heart 
That drew patrons to his mart. 
Something noble, something true — 
Strive that it be said of you 
As in eulogy of Jim, 

"We all liked him." 

March Wind Blow 



ITTER March- wind, blow and blow; 
Drive away the drifting snow; 
Toss the tree-tops to and fro; 

Kiss the ice-bound lakes and streams 
And arouse them from their dreams. 

Happy March-wind, blithely blow. 
Winter's heart is full of woe. 



Winter's head is lying low; 

Bring, O bring the melting rain 
Back unto the earth again. 

Weeping March-wind, blow and blow 
Till thy tears of sorrow flow 
Down thy dying cheeks of snow — 
Weep away! for man must wait 
. Till those tearful winds abate. 

Merry March-wind, softer blow, 
Let the little children know 
Where the sweetest flowers grow; 
Let thy tender accents ring 
From the joyous harp of Spring. 

All ye wild-winds, blow and blow, 
Drive away the drifting snow, 
Bend the bushes, bend them low; 
Breathe upon the trembling sod 
Springtime's messages from God. 



jS^ 



The Rime of the Raftmen 

I 

HE Delaware above the Rift 

Each bank is fast o'erflowing. 
And sweeping onward dark and swift, 
Wild and still wilder growing 



D 



It hurls a heavy raft along 

Upon its rocking way, 
While the Captain's call the hills prolong 

At dawning of the day: 
Pull, lads, pull!— to Jersey side, 
The Rift is near! 

13 



Pull, lads, pull! — for the high floods hide 
The ragged rocks like an ocean tide, 
And the river's rush I hear. 

II 

Safely the Rift is left behind, 

A careful stearsman stearing; 
Swiftly we speed, only to find 

A dizzy eddy nearing, 
Where rolling in the river-lake, 

And whirling round and round 
A dozen rafts the circle make. 

And warning cries resound: 
Pull, lads, pull! — Sylvania's shore! 

The Eddy's near! 
Pull, lads, pull!— till the sweeping oar 
Bends like a bow and you hear the roar 
Of the river in the rear, 

III 

The luring eddy lies behind 

Where the dizzy rafts are whirling. 
And we speed along with the cutting wind, 

The foam like suds up-curling, 
When ahead a sharp curve comes in sight 

And we hear the Captain call 
As the raft swerves sudden to the right 

And the ridges tower tall: 
Pull, lads, pull! — to Jersey side! 

The Bend I fear! 
Puli, lads, pull!— and soon we'll ride 
On the rolling wave to Trenton's tide 
With river calm and clear. 

IV 

The Bend is past, but the Water-gap 

Of the Delaware up-rearing. 
Looms far ahead like a narrow trap 

As fast our raft is nearing, 

14 



And calm and deep the waters grow. 

And scarcely comes a sound 
Till the Captain's caUing, to and fro 

Re-echoes far around: 
Rest, lads, rest!— a Httle while! 

Be of good cheer! 
Rest, lads, rest! till yonder isle 
We safely pass— a few more mile 
And all our course is clear. 



Along the wave we smoothly glide 

Until the island clearing. 
When down we speed as with the tide, 

Now here, now there a veering, 
Until a great bridge lifts its form 

Against the evening sky, 
When like the rolling of a storm 

The crew repeats the cry: 
Pull, lads, pull!— Sylvania's shore! 

The Bridge is near! 
Pull, lads, pull!— the for'ard oar. 
And soon our dangerous task is o'er, 
And little need we fear. 

VI 

So on we speed; now fast, now slow; 

By isle and rift and eddy 
Until at length along we flow 

With movement firm and steady; 
And low and lower lie the hills, 
And wider spreads the vale, 
And soft the Captain's calling trills 
Upon the evening gale: 
Rest, lads, rest!— our work is done— 
The danger's o'er! 
Rest, lads, rest! — another sun 
Will see a haven safely won 

By Trenton's friendly shore. 



A Child's Elegy 



!|E know her not whom once we knew, 
Who died it seems e'er death was due — 

We know her not; she is asleep; 

Our hearts are dumb— we can but weep 
That one so young must bid adieu, 
Must part so soon from earthly view. 

Those tender feet we knew so late 
We hear no more; we can but wait 
To hear them in the House of God 
When dust to dust we tread the sod, 
For in that home of homes they wait 
For us beside the city's gate. 

Those little hands out-held in love. 
That in such innocence did move 
To fondle each familiar face 
Are still — they cannot now embrace 
As once they did so like a dove 
That weary parents would approve. 

Those little lips that met our own 

So sweetly when we were alone 

No more shall meet the lips of earth, 

Sealed up unto another birth; 

But when these larger lives have flown 

Our lips will meet; she will be known. 

Springtime was here— the birds would soon 
Have re-appeared— the birds would soon 
Have warbled from a new-built nest, 
Would soon have felt beneath their breast 
The little ones— and such a boon 
Had taught them still a sweeter tune. 

But of the little ones not all 
Will answer to the parent-call, 
Not all will learn to rise and fly — 



Many aro born, but some must die; 
Many will rise, but some must fall. 
And God knows best for each and all. 

This is the hope— we know not how— 
This is the hope that lures us now, 
That makes the parting less of pain — 
The hope that we shall meet again, 
And so while unto grief we bow 
The road beyond seems brighter now. 

Dreaming of the Delaware 

I 

HAVE been far away from the Delaware's 
shore, 
From the river where once I did play. 
But I'm dreaming tonight by the old cot- 
tage door 
Where the moonlight is gleaming bright as day. 

Refrain : 

Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming of that dear old 
stream. 
Dreaming of the days that are no more — 

The days so bright and fair. 
Dreaming in the moonlight gleaming on the shore 
Of the dear old Delaware. 
II 
And the river is still, and so peaceful tonight 

That its murmur I scarcely can hear, 
And across it the moonlight is beaming so bright 
That the scenes of my childhood appear. 

Ill 

And I think of my mother who bade me farewell 
And the sister who kist me good-bye— 



They are sleeping below in that beautiful dell 

But methinks that again they are nigh. 
IV 
Long deserted has been the old river home, 

My old home by the dear Delaware, 
But never, O never again will I roam 

From the scenes of my childhood so fair. 
V 
I will cherish the dreams I am dreaming tonight, 

Will upbuild the old homestead once more, 
And perhaps when I'm dead, for another's delight 

It will bloom by the Delaware's shore. 

Refrain. 



J^ 



N 



orma 

A Legend of the Wayne Highlands 

a LONG the lake's wild northern shore 
An island dark with trees 
Lies shadow-like, and 9'er and o'er 

At midnight thru a leafy door 
Comes music on the breeze, 
Sweet music on the breeze. 
Where sad-eyed Norma dreams. 

And o'er the wave, in thru the trees 
The mellow moonlight streams. 

And Norma's voice is sweet to hear 

As the breathing of a bell; 
But while so welcome to the ear 
Of any one afar or near, 

The notes, O few can tell! 

The notes, few can teH! 
Falling so wildly sweet, 



Like the mournful ringing of a bell 
With the tones still incomplete. 

How came this maid upon the isle 

Within the Hills of Wayne? 
Why sings she sweetly all the while 
As if to ease her self-denial? 

Why sings she a refrain 

At the lonely midnight hour 
On an island dark with trees, 

Enchanting souls unto her bower 
By such sweet melodies? 

The legend runs: — That long ago 

A lover came to woo, 
But left her — why? — (no man doth know) 
For while her love like wine did flow 

Away from her he drew— 

He drew from her away, 
While she was left forlorn 

And ever (so the legends say) 
Did daily for him mourn. 

But Norma left her home one night 

When all were fast asleep 
And angel-like she trod the light 
Moonpath across the waters bright 

Until she ceased to weep. 

Until she ceased to weep, 
Singing a sweet, sweet song 

That on the lake that lay asleep 
The night-wind did prolong. 

And after Norma's death, one day 

A knock at her father's door 
Announced the lad who went away 
When both were lovers young and gay, 

Who now would love her more 

Than any other maid, 

Yes, any other maid, 

19 



Saying, where is Norma now, 
Where is my sweetheart now? 

O Youth, my daughter is not here— 

She waited, waited long 
To hear the voice she held more dear 
Than all the rest— nor could we cheer 

Her with another song; 

But many hear her sing 
By the island, — sing so sweet 

That never, never can they bring 
The song to me complete. 

The lover sadly turned away 

And vowed that he would know 
The song complete e'er dawn of day 
And followed where the moonpath lay 

Upon the lake below. 

Where Norma sang of love 
On the island dark with trees 

That cast deep shadows on the cove, 
And his heart was ill at ease. 

At midnight o'er the moonlit wave 

He bent his little boat. 
Till he heard the song the soft winds gave, 
But if his life that song might save, 

He could not tell a note! 

He could not learn a note! 
Tho' many, and many, and many a night 

In the lovely moonpath gleaming bright 
He listened from his boat. 

But the song he never, never knew 

Altho' he listened long, 
And so it is— is ever true 
When hearts withhold a love long due; 

For Love sings one sweet song. 

One sweet familiar song, 
At thy heart's door today. 

And knocking, waits, but waiting long 
Forever turns away. 



I 



Plant a Tree 

njHE Past unto the Present cries— 
I Arise, ye more than bHnd, arise! 
J For I who fell the forest low 
Would now another forest grow, 
But what is done I cannot mend. 
So unto you a message send — 
Much did I do for you, for me. 
Plant a tree. 
Plant a tree. 

The Present, waking from its sleep. 
Across the hills began to creep. 
And saw where Past had fallen far 
A noble forest, with a scar 
On many a wounded mountain side 
That from the elements would hide— 
And answered:— Past, I will for thee 

Plant a tree, 

A forest tree. 

The feeling Future, yet unborn, 

Heard Present echoing her horn, 

And stirring somewhat in Life's cell 

Did try her dearest wish to tell. 

Whispering in an undertone: 

I — I shall reap as ye have sown, 

O heed the Past! and — thanks to thee — 

Plant a tree. 

Plant a tree. 

Maid of Shehawken 

AID of Shehawken, kind and true, 
I sing a fond farewell. 
But, maiden, though I sing adieu, 
My love I cannot tell — 

21 



sa 



My love I cannot tell to thee 
For parting gives me pain, 

Oh may I in the days to be 
Meet with thee once again. 

Maid of Shehawken, sweet and fair, 
Accept my humble praise, 

And may thy path be free from care, 
Full happy be thy days, 

And ever mid the lure of life 
Where e'er thy lot may be, 

In pleasant paths or weary strife- 
Remember, I love thee. 

Maid of Shehawken, kind and true, 

Tho' far away we roam. 
Few places will we find, few 

As sweet as our highland home, 
And tho' Life's pathway lead along 

The shining streets of gold, 
Our Hps will never know a song 

As sweet as the songs of old. 

Maid of Shehawken, dearer far 

Than any that I know. 
Lighting my pathway like a star, 

Afar from thee I go. 
But tho' I leave the Hills of Wayne 

My heart is still with thee, 
O maiden, may we meet again 

In the days that are to be. 

To the Delaware 



1 



jjEASE thy murmuring, Delaware, 
For thy many braves so fair 
Who are sleeping by thy stream— 
Rouse them not— there let them dream. 
For upon that silent shore 



22 



Indian's cry shall sound no more. 
There, where still the owlets cry 
And the solemn night-winds sigh. 
Let the victor's head remain 
With the spirits of the slam, 
Leave the warriors fast asleep 
Where the willows o'er them weep. 
For thy murmuring, Delaware, 
Cannot wake those sleeping there, 
For thy voice deep in the foam 
Cannot ever call them home. 

There, where low and high degree 
Sleep beneath the self-same tree, 
And where warriors small and great, 
Share in death a common fate. 
Leave the pale-face and the braves 
Side by side within their graves. 

There, where ridges lifting high 
Try to bridge the endless sky. 
And where willows bend like lead 
O'er the footprints of the dead— 
To each brother slumbering there. 
Sing sweet songs, my Delaware. 

Requiem : 

Brave!-thy happy days have fled 
Into silence with the dead; 
Thy canoe, thy well-worn way. 
And thy bow are in decay. 
And no more thy camp-fires gleam 
By thy sweet, complaining stream; 
And I mourn thy ruthless fate; 
Weeping am I— but too late— 
For upon that silent shore 
Indian's cry shall sound no more. 

23 



Starlight Lake 



m 



ELL named thou art, O little lake 
Set in among the hills; 
Well named art thou, — each star doth make 
Reflected forms that fancies wake 
And memory fondly fills. 



And nightly on the rugged shore 

Each cot with ruddy beam 
Lights up thy face from pane and door 
And throws a stream of silver o'er 

Thy bosom like a dream. 

Thy hemlock hills, now dimly grown. 

Fling shadows on thy face, 
And to their branch the birds have flown, 
Except the owl, whose monotone 

The listening ear can trace. 

There, where the starlight thickly trails 

A path across thy wave, 
A passing boat a boatman hails 
Whose maiden crew still softly sails 

As with a pilot brave. 

While from thy shore a lithe canoe 

Shoots o'er thy bosom fair, 
Leaving behind a milk-white view 
As when the beaver paddled thru 

Thy waters unaware. 

Up rides the moon with rosy rim 

All silently and still. 
Chasing away the shadows dim 
Th'at on thy surface seem to swim 

Like wood nymphs from the hill. 

Now midnight comes, and on thy shore 

No boatman plies his way. 
The cottage lights shine forth no more 



From window-pane or open door 
Where yet thy shadows play. 

Silent and strangely still is all; 

The stars like candles are, 
No echoes on the forest fall,— 
Each lonely owl hath ceas'd to call 

His wood-mate from afar. 

Silent and calmly still is all; 

Dim Night is monarch now. 
His kingdom is the midnight air, 
The forests his attendants fair, 

Who, at his bidding, bow — 

And stand like sentinels asleep 

Beneath the moon's wan beam, 
Until Aurora fair doth creep 
Above the hill where she doth keep 
Bright morn with welcome gleam. 



m 



An Inquiry 



PEAK, speak, my angel fair, 
Is there sadness everywhere — 
Folly where the flower f eedeth 
Rapids where the river leadeth 
To delight? 

Is there, is there anything 

An eternal joy can bring— 

What is real and what but seemeth 

Like a dream a dreamer dreameth 

Thru the night? 

Can there be. Angel of Love 
Can there be bright homes above— 
What is Life — and when it endeth 

25 



What is Death— why it decendeth 
I implore? 

Tell me, Angel, can it be 
That thy hand is leading me— 

Tell me, are these seraphs singing 
Up in heaven, gladnes3 bringing 
Evermore? 



J^ 



Win 



Lak( 



In the Wayne Highlands 

iIHE shadows fall on Twin Lake fair 

As crimson sets the Autnmn sun; 
A holy hush is on the air 

Of eventide and day is done. 

No zephyrs kiss the little lake; 

So still and calm is either shore, 
That on her face dim shadows wake 

And deepen ever more and more. 

And where the long-leaf laurels grow 
A cuckoo sounds the hour of rest, 

And fondly answering far below 
Its mate is calling from her nest. 

Now comes the twilight, calm and still, 
And, with a cloak of sable hue, 

Half hides the lake and upland hill 

That faint and fainter fades from view. 

And through the broken web of night 
Each stalwart star with even ray 

Reflects upon the lake a light 

To guide a boatman on his way. 

And soon the massive moon doth ride 
Athwart the pine trees' heavy shade, 

26 



That doth her fiery chariot hide. 
As an apparent halt is made. 

And sweetly from a maiden fair 
In yon canoe that skirts the shore 

A laugh rings out upon the air 
And echoes softly o'er and o'er 

Till dying on the distant hill, 

An evening silence settles far,— 
A quietness, so calm, so still, 

With rising moon and silent star- 
That peace, sweet peace subdues the soul. 

While on the clear and pensive air 
The bells of Como softly toll 

The ever-sacred hour of prayer. 

The Man Who Swears 



n 



T is often, yes, often that the man who swears 
Is a man who dares and a man who cares; 
For the gentle voice and the eye of blue 
Will sometimes tell of a heart less true 



Than the rough, cold voice and manner stern 
And you some day this truth will learn:— 
That often, yes, often that the man who swears 
Is a man who dares and a man who cares. 

When you are sick with fever and pain. 
Who comes to ease your weary brain? 
Is it the friend with the eyes of blue 
And gentle voice that comes to you, 
Or, is it the one with manner cola 
And voice so stern and ways so boldi. 
That presses a hand on your fevered brow 
And soothes your troubled spirits now. 

When you are down and your friends are few. 
Who is it comes to comfort you? 

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Is it the one with eyes so mild 
And voice as sweet as a little child- 
Is it the one with gentle way 
That comes to you and dares to say:— 
So sorry, friend; say, here's my hand, 
I'll do your bidding; now just command? 

When in misfortune you need a friend 
Who will fight for you to the bitter end — 
Is it always the one who speaks quite low 
And fears to say what he knows, is so. 
Or is it the man who speaks his mind 
And shows some mettle — and hardly kind 
Whose heart is cold until your woe 
Melts an entrance as the sun melts snow? 

I would not say that swearing is right 
But I say some men are willing to fight- 
It is wrong indeed for a man to swear. 
And I envy no one's weakness there — 
Still I believe, with me you would say 
While one will swear and another pray 
You would follow the man who is willing to dare 
Tho one might pray and the other swear. 



J^ 



The Glen 



^ERE Nature's nice adjusted tool 
Hath cut a chasm; and each pool 
Reflects a narrow, rocky room 
Where sun-born flowers seldom bloom, 
But where the ledging, level shelves 
Betray the dance hall of the elves. 

And overhead the tasseled trees 

Frown from the wall, and with each breeze 

Awake the solemn avenue, 

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But hide from sight the upward view, 
When with a hundred harps they sing 
To Boreas their mighty king. 

Here Echo dwells in lonely mood, 
And answers to the dying wood; 
Unsuited to a varying rhyme 
She hath no voice for tuneful Time 
Content to speak as she hath heard 
The lyric wind, the singing bird. 

Here these same falls awoke the glen 
Long, long before the march of men; 
Long, long before yon broken soil 
Brought forth the fruit of human toil 
And here these falls will dance and play 
When feehng man has passed away. 

Sing little Falls; and echo Glen, 
Till silent are the songs of men 
And they that dwell upon the earth 
Have disappeared as at thy birth 
And senseless Rock— if think ye can. 
Think ye — how short the life of man! 




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Hope 



la 



IND guardian of the Lonely Shore, 

And Sorrow's true and only friend, 
Comforting angel of the poor — 
What heavenly spirit did descend 
With passive voice, with ways unknown, 

Within thy very self complete? 
O Hope, when left at last alone 

We fall a suppliant at thy feet 
And worship there, with heart forlorn 

From childhood's land of make-believe, 
Through early youth, the brightening morn, 
Till tottering age, the fading eve. 

And who could walk without thee, friend? 

Who walk dim paths without thy hand? 
From out the world shouldst thou ascend 

Blind Poverty would stalk the land; 
Despair would seize some simple knave 

And Hatred every evil one, — 
O Hope, for more would seek the grave 

Without thy timely vision shown: — 
The sick upon the lowly bed; 

The blind a-begging as of yore; 
The weeping child who works unfed; 

The prisoner by the fatal door. 
All, led along, still chng below 

To feel thy subtle charms so free, 
As wearily, drearily on they go. 

Following, following after thee. 

And when upon Life's field they fall. 

When Disappointment reigns supreme. 
Thy voice, omnipotent, would call 

E'en from the dust their fondest dream; 
Would call and wake the slumbering thought, 

And point it to some great ideal 
While adding all, but taking naught 

From out the present, living reaL 

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1 



Then, Hope, thou sentinel of light 
By Disappointment's lonely shore. 

Speak out amid the depth of night 
And guide us safely evermore. 



J^ 



Lines to Liars 

jET lawyers harp about the law. 

And all its majesty and might; 
They find in every case a flaw 
And think they're right. 

Let politicians praise the truth 

And laud its virtue to the sky — 
They practice from their very youth 
To give the lie. 

Let prophets send the saints to heaven 

And damn poor sinners e'en to hell — 
How such authority is given 
They cannot tell. 

Let doctors prate of human pain 

Alleviated by their skill. 
When Death's dull sickness comes, in vain 
Is every pill. 

Let poets pipe of bloody war 

And claim its carnal method right; 
They're only piping cowards, for 
Not one will fight. 

And so it seems we mortals boast 

Of knowledge where we know the least 
And show our ignorance the most 
Like any beast. 

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Fooling 



mE was a lad — a tender boy, 
And she — she held him as her toy, 
And when she wearied of his way 
And would with other playthings play, 
I heard him say beneath his breath: — 
A fool am I; it is my death — 
She jilted me— the little lass, — 
I will not let such fooling pass 
But shift at once some bitter dart 
Back— back again into her heart, 
But then thought he— All those who play 
With fools are fools as well as they, 
And so he made a living rule:— 
It takes a fool to fool a fool. 




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One copy del. to Cat. Div. 
MAY 2;i IW} 



